


For new beginnings

by Robin11



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin11/pseuds/Robin11
Summary: Let's keep it super short, Sherlock and John's new baby is born.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 14





	For new beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people, 
> 
> How are we all today? So I'll tell you now, I will not be writing angst for Johnlock. There's so much angst in the TV show that all I want to do with fan fiction is give them a long and happy life together. So this is fluff, and will always be fluff. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

'Where is Karleen?' Karleen's unfortunate boyfriend shrugged his shoulders nervously at John's outburst.  
'Um,' he began tentatively, his fingers threading around his cup of tea, 'I think she just went out for a walk,'  
'By HERSELF?' The boy flinched, almost dropping the cup.   
'S-she said she didn't want...company,'  
'Unbelievable.' John threw his arms into the air, eyes darting towards the clock, where was Sherlock when you needed him.   
'I didn't want to disturb her, she's been quite angry lately.' John cut him a look, and he fell silent.   
'Right.' He threw on his coat, and turned back to the man cowering in the chair at their table. 'Well then I guess we had better find her, hadn't we?' Leroy nodded furiously, scrambling to his feet. 'Of course...I think she went to the chip shop. She likes chips,' he finished lamely, John raised an eyebrow at him, thankful that the baby would have none of his DNA. I mean, who lets their girlfriend who's IN LABOUR go on a walk by herself? What if something happened? Then stupid Leroy would be nowhere to be found. Stupid Leroy. A smirk tugged the corners of his mouth as he wrenched open the door and ran down the stairs, bashing Leroy was good fun, he had to admit. It really helped take the edge off of stressful situations. Leroy trailed behind him, then stopped dead in his tracks. 'WAIT.' Sighing heavily, John acquiesced, watching him bolt up the stairs, and come down again with a packet of biscuits. He had to take a deep breath for this one, in order to not throttle the boy where he stood. 'You stopped for FUCKING BISCUITS?' Leroy held out the sleeve,   
'She's always less angry with me when I bring her biscuits.'  
'I just...that's-' He didn't have time for this. Yanking open the door, John braced himself against the cold air, and set about finding Karleen. 

'Mikey?' Mycroft's head snapped up at her tone, his lips curling with amusement.   
'Yes?' Rosie turned her colouring book so that he could admire it. Leaving his desk to come sit next to her at the long, polished oak table, Mycroft narrowed his eyebrows at it.   
'...It's a skull.' Rosie nodded vehemently, her blond curls flopping over her ears,   
'Like the one Papa has at home.' Mycroft pushed the book back onto the table, shaking his head.  
'Absolutely not. Listen to me Rosamund, you are above this. You are not the barbaric, murder obsessed idiot your father is.' Firmly turning the page in her colouring book, he then said,   
'Let us try again with a more sophisticated subject. You can draw anything in this room.' Rosie's grey eyes passed over the room carefully, scrutinising every object, before her head snapped up excitedly. 'Draw you!' Mycroft sat up a little straighter,   
'Excellent choice. I can see my tutelage is improving your tastes greatly. Let me just get my work so that I can finish doing it here. It will provide you the best view for drawing.' Rosie nodded as he got up, and carefully selected her first colour. It was bright green. Perhaps they still had work to do in terms of taste. Mycroft sat down again, and beginning with a huge circle, Rosie asked, 'Important?', carefully pronouncing the 'por' like she'd learned last week. His fountain pen stilled over the report, asking whether or not they should increase the amount of troops they were sending abroad. Rosie was used to being passed from friend to friend when her fathers had 'work', and were off chasing criminals around the country. Ever since she was one, the very word had been sacred, not to be disturbed, always respected. Not that he was sentimental in any sense, but according to the parenting books he'd read, a child needed to know it was the priority of its caretaker. Now, John and Sherlock never neglected her, but Rosie was sharp, and sometimes Mycroft saw her piercing gaze pick up the excitement they had in their work, and the joy they put into it. He'd seen her deflate a little whenever someone new called, as it meant she needed to be babysat for safety. The parental books had said that even a child of three can feel left out, and as an Uncle, it was his duty to stick to the knowledge of experts, they knew what they were doing after all. Placing down the pen, he put the hand on her head instead, mussing up her hair. 'Not as important as you Rosamund.' The smile that split apart her face warmed his insides. Not because he was getting emotional, of course not. It simply meant that the books were right, and he did so love putting theory into practice. Clearing his throat, lest she get the idea that he was almost as emotional as a- he couldn't even think it...normal person- the very word sent a shudder through his spine- he cleared his throat, and started to write again. 'Make it your best work, we never do anything by halves.' 

Sherlock was enjoying himself immensely, or as much as one could enjoy stressful situations. In his case, it was a great deal. He'd spent the past few weeks perfecting the conditions of the hospital room they'd booked for Karleen. Right now, it was all coming together like a beautiful equation. The doctor was on standby, the room was sterile (he'd gone over it again after the doctor had left, as one could never be too sure what ordinary people might leave out. Human error was so irritating and inconvenient), she had both a bed and a birthing stool, and Sherlock knew the exact room that they had the pool in and the quickest way to get there, if she should want to give birth underwater. He had three red towels, completely new and washed, folded and crisp on the table. He'd brought both peppermint and Lavender into the room, for a soothing scent in case Karleen were to get stressed. He'd gone over all the lessons from Lamaze, and were confident that they were locked into his mind palace. If needs be, he would be right there, breathing with her. There were three bottles of water, just for Karleen, and a smaller towel to wipe her brow for when she would sweat. He'd even brought cleaning supplies in case she should defecate during the birth, as he'd read some women did. He'd made sure the room was in a quiet part of the hospital, and only two metres from the nearest operating room, so that if something were to go wrong, she could be wheeled there instantly. They were far enough from the canteen to make sure that no disgusting food smells would disturb her, and he'd placed four chairs in the room, after hours of knocking on the doors of hospital rooms and asking if he could have some. He didn't understand why people had been so annoyed at him, it was just a simple request, and how was he supposed to know that they were removing the catheter at that exact moment in time? Anyway, it didn't matter. The room was completely ready, he'd thought of every possible situation, and had even remembered the small gift that was stuffed deep into his coat pocket, awaiting the new baby. Reaching into his pocket now, he squeezed it gently, unable to believe that this was actually happening. He, Sherlock Holmes, was going to have another child. And this time, the child had been a conscious decision, a decision made between him and John. Obviously, he'd love the new one just as much as Rosie, but with Rosie there was never an exact moment when he became her father, he slid into the role, already there before he even realised it. Now it would be different. The baby would come out and would mark him as its parent, immediately. It was inconceivable. Improbable. And if he was being honest, just a little bit terrifying. This baby had his DNA, had Eurus's DNA. What if this baby became just like her? If it did, it would be all his fault, because they were his genetics. Rosie was perfect, had always been perfect, but that was because she'd had John's genes, and he was perfect. He could never fail her. Sherlock could fail this baby, by just being himself. Oh God, what had he done? How could he think that it would be a safe idea for him to have a biological child? Look at what happened to Eurus, Moriarty. Both had been far too clever for their own good, and it was highly possible that this baby would be cleverer than Sherlock himself. What if he was condemning a baby to a lifetime of loneliness, to a life behind bars because it didn't understand the fuss around the moral dilemmas of good and evil? What if this baby was more clever than Eurus? What if the baby felt like they were completely alone in the world? What if they couldn't find a John, couldn't tether itself to the world, and ended up being miserable? All the preparations that had been made before seemed so foolish now, so naive. What was he going to do? He hand't thought this through at all. And John, John would be heartbroken. Shaking, Sherlock dropped onto one of the plastic chairs that he'd stolen, which squeaked loudly in protest. What had he done?

'Karleen!' She turned her head at the shout, her lips tugging downwards in distaste.   
'Oh, you found me.' Leroy thrust the packet of biscuits at her, and she had to bite her lip to stop a smile from escaping. John took the barstool next to her, goodness knows how she'd managed to wedge herself onto one in her condition, and asked gently,   
'What's wrong?' Huffing, she poked at the basket of chips in front of her,  
'Nothing.' Tracking her eye movement, John understood. Turning to Leroy, he cleared his throat and took out his wallet,   
'Fish and chips and a Coca Cola.' Leroy's eyes widened,   
'You want me to get it? But the line's massive,'  
'Exactly, I'm about to be a father for the second time, I need to focus all my energy on that.' Opening his mouth, Leroy searched for a retort, but could find none. Exhaling harshly, he snapped his mouth shut and moodily swiped the wallet. 'Alright, alright.' Muttering something, Leroy trudged his way to the winding line, hands in his pockets. Karleen watched him go, not without amusement. Swivelling in his chair, John moved to face her again,   
'So what's really the problem?' Sighing, Karleen placed a chip in her mouth, and spoke around it.   
'I don't know. I'm just...he's a bit of an idiot, isn't he?' Startled, John looked at Leroy, who was currently whistling the tune to a Katy Perry song.   
'I mean...'  
'Don't sugarcoat it. He is.' A startled laugh escaped him and laughing as well, she looked a little embarrassed,   
'I never really minded before. But now, with the whole pregnancy thing...he's been so useless John. And it made me think, what if something big like this happens again? he won't be able to handle it at all. I don't want to constantly be doing everything by myself.' Pressing his lips together, John contemplated the situation. It really wasn't any of his business. Was Karleen too good for Leroy? Definitely. No question there. It was obvious from the first moment they walked through the door and Leroy had said, 'Not that I have any problem with it, it's alright with me. But...does this mean you'll need to have sex with the curly haired one?'. But then again, he was always very nice to her, and to be honest he didn't want to influence any of her decisions, especially not when she was in labour. 'Well...there's always an idiot in the relationship, no? I'm Sherlock's idiot. He's quite ok with that, at least I think he is.' Grinning, Karleen offered him a chip, John accepted. 'Yeah, but you're like mediocre idiot. Still smart enough to be of use, you know?'  
'Why thank you.' She shoved him lightly, smiling,   
'You know what I mean.'   
'I think you're looking at this the wrong way.' Dipping a stub of chip into the ketchup that was blotting the newspaper, she asked,  
'Oh?' John leaned closer,   
'You have a trial period right now, Leroy's not becoming a father. Which means that you have time for him to grow and learn how to be useful in big situations.' She shook her head,   
'Thank goodness we're never having kids. Can you imagine him as a father?' They both looked at him again, and seeing them watching he stopped his dancing to the song he'd been humming, and waved at them nervously. John surpassed a grin.   
'If you love him Karleen, nothing else really matters, no?'   
'I suppose,' she sighed, her head in her hands. '...I suppose.' Placing his hand on hers, John shook it supportively,   
'Come on, let's go put on the kettle. We can watch movies until you're dilated enough.' Karleen blinked at him,   
'Never say those words to me again please.' Laughing, John held out his hand to her, and helped her from the stool,  
'Come on, call your idiot and let's get out of here.' 

'Mhm, mhm, mhmmm. Goodbye.' Swiftly hanging up, Mycroft turned to the bleary eyed Rosie, who'd shot up at the sound of the phone.  
'Baby?' He shook his head, and she sank into the couch again, her head dropping onto the arm.  
'Why is it taking so long?’ Walking over to her, Mycroft stuck his hands into his pockets,   
'Giving birth is a very complex natural procedure. These things take a lot of time. It's best not to worry too much about it. Now, I think it's time for bed.' Rosie shook her head, her body wriggling so furiously she almost fell off the couch, Mycroft lunged forward to catch her, but there was no need. She'd recovered. Suppressing the hint of pride at how developed her motoring skills were, he adopted his strict voice, 'Yes Rosamund. It is vital that you get enough sleep, how else will your brain develop to its full potential?' She gazed up at him reproachfully, but a large yawn interrupted the cutting effect, 'See, you're tired. We must listen to our bodies.' He scooped her up in one movement, but still she shook her head. Grabbing his face between her two chubby hands, she implored him, 'Please? I want to be there for new baby.' Mycroft tried to stay strong, only a fool would succumb to the pleading of a child, but alas, she was simply too good at getting her way. When she was older she would be a force to be reckoned with, perfect at the job he was doing right now. No enemy would stand a chance. 'When news comes of the baby, I will wake you up and drive you there myself, ok? But only if you go to sleep now.'  
'Promise?' She stuck out her pinkie.   
'That is a very childish way of securing a promise, the particulars of the finger does not change the likelihood of someone following through on the promise.'  
'Promise,' she insisted, it still waving in the air. With a sigh, Mycroft threaded his around hers, and shook it once. Honestly, the levels to which he stooped in order to make sure the girl had a proper upbringing...  
Satisfied, Rosie plopped her head down on his shoulder, and allowed him to carry her to the cot he'd had installed in his office, in case of emergency babysitting events like these. Curling up under her blankets, she fell asleep almost immediately. The immediacy of it caused a hint of a smile to grace Mycroft's face, before someone knocked on his door and it vanished. 

‘Leroy I swear to fuck if you don’t get the car to start right now I will slit your throat myself.’  
‘I’m trying,’ the poor boy protested, fumbling desperately with the keys, his hands shaking so much as to render them completely useless. ‘Oh, for the love of-’ Karleen was sitting in the backseat, both hands on her heaving stomach, breathing puffs of air in and out as she gritted her teeth against another contraction. John was half paying attention to her and half trying to figure out what Leroy’s problem seemed to be in getting the car to start. ‘Leroy, do we need to call a cab or not?’ he asked, taking a decidedly calmer tone than Karleen had a few moments ago. ‘I don’t know!’ Leroy threw his hands in the air, clinking the keys in his palms,  
‘I don’t know why it’s not starting, it worked fine when we came here a few hours ago.’ John frowned, ‘Are you sure? Did you hear a kind of grumble as you were driving?’ Leroy opened his mouth but Karleen but them off, ‘I’m sorry, are both of you really going to start a debate here as if either of you know anything about cars? I’m having a fucking baby. Get me to the fucking hospital before I have it in this bloody car.’ Leroy gaped open-mouthed at the string of expletives, John supposed she’d never strung that many into one sentence before. He woul have taken the time to congratulate her, but unfortunately they had more pressing matters at hand. ‘Right. Cab. Right.’ John quickly took up the task, lest Leroy find a way to cock this up as well, and then shot a quick text to Sherlock.

-we’re coming

Sherlock didn’t reply- which was a little strange, as usually he immediately texted back, but now was not the moment to start worrying about petty things like whether or not his husband was having second thoughts about their entire marriage. Shaking the stupid, neurotic idea from his mind, John held out a hand to Karleen, who, ignoring it, pulled herself up by the door, and managed to totter out into the street, groaning all the while.   
The summoned taxi appeared almost instantly, and the three of them piled in as it sped towards the hospital. 

‘Breathe near me again Leroy, and I’m breaking up with you.’ It was safe to say that Karleen was not feeling particularly charitable towards her significant other at the moment. They were all jammed into the back of the cab, Leroy trying to stifle his breathing as Karleen spread her legs wide and gripped onto John’s arms so tightly he could feel the bruises flowering. ‘Are we near the hospital?’ he anxiously called to the cab driver, desperately wanting to get out of the car before she reached bone. The cab driver responded by turning the corner, and the dingy facade of the hospital came into view. John had never been so relieved to see it before.   
‘Leroy I thought I told you to stop breathing near me.’

She’d been wheeled into the room, and the doctor had told them it was a matter of half an hour before she would be dilated enough for the birth. For the time being, she was being poured a glass of water from the bottles that had stood waiting for her, with Leroy dabbing at her forehead with a cloth as she tried to swat him away. The doctor had left for the time being, before John could ask her where Sherlock was. It was strange, he’d left early to ‘check that everything was right in the room’. He definitely should have been here, and from the amount of birthing videos and books he’d consumed, John was certain that this was not a moment Sherlock wanted to miss. Casting a quick glance at the happy couple, whose members were either tucking sheets around their partner and kicking them off again as soon as they were in place. Taking an executive decision, John decided they could be left alone for now. The doctor had said half an hour, so that was how long he had to find Sherlock. 

Slipping into the hallway, John’s eyes scanned the tangerine signs that directed the way towards the different wards. There were at least a dozen, how was he supposed to find him in under half an hour? But then one in particular caught his eye, and smiling to himself, he stuck his hands in his pockets and followed it. 

Sherlock was sitting on a chair. His fingers threaded together as he stared blankly at the water ebbing gently to and fro. So lost in thought was he, that he didn’t stir when John sat down next to him, only opened his mouth, ‘I probably should have known you would find me.’ John glanced at the ripples in the pool, ‘It’s where it all began, isn’t it?’ Sherlock let out a huff of air,   
‘Strange isn’t it, how something so mundane can be changed forever, simply by the memories we attach to it.’   
‘Did you get my text?’ Sherlock nodded,   
‘Should we go back?’ Sherlock didn’t respond. Sighing, John placed his hand on his knee,   
‘What’s this about? Nerves? Because that’s completely normal, I was absolutely terrified when Rosie was born, I was sure I was going to cock everything up-still am to be honest-’  
‘It’s not that.’ Turning to him, John raised an eyebrow. Sherlock fiddled with his fingers, rubbing them in circles, as if he was trying to soothe himself. His pupils dilated in fear, drowning the green of his eyes, drowning all of him.   
‘Sherlock?’ He blinked, and seemed to come back down to earth. ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked softly, moving his thumb over his knee, showing him that he was here. When Sherlock spoke, it was so softly that John almost missed it.   
‘This was a mistake.’ Cold, blind fear shocked through John, filling all his limbs until they were stiff, he was sitting there in his seat, frozen. Sherlock was having second thoughts. Sherlock didn’t want to be with him anymore. Sherlock was feeling trapped. Sherlock didn’t love him. Sherlock wanted a divorce. Sherlock wanted to be rid of all of this. Sherlock...No. Steeling himself, he asked as calmly as he could-although the voice crack betrayed him-,   
‘A-a mistake?’ Numbly, Sherlock nodded, and John’s heart shattered. He couldn’t even move his hand from Sherlock’s knee, couldn’t move anything. What was he going to do? How was he going to move on with his life if Sherlock didn’t love him? Was such a world even conceivable?   
Sherlock sighed heavily, clenching his jaw, ‘Why did we choose for me to be the biological parent?’ Closing his eyes tightly, John tried to breathe calmly, in through his nose, out through his mouth, in through his nose, out through his mouth, in through his nose, out through his-  
‘I mean, what if the baby turns out like Eurus?’ Wait. What? His eyes flying open, John’s hand dropped from his knee in shock. Sherlock’s jaw was working furiously in order to counteract the tears that were starting to form in his eyes. Sherlock...crying? That was something that barely happened, John had seen him cry maybe three times in his life. Meeting his eyes, Sherlock swallowed, his fingers shaking. Shit, in his shock he’d forgotten to speak. What an idiot. Finding his voice, John said,   
‘What on earth are you talking about?’   
‘What if the baby turns out like Eurus?’ Relief melted all the tension from the previous moments away, like honey it seeped through his veins, loosening everything, warming his petrified heart. With a jerk, it remembered to start beating again, and thudded heavily against his chest, happiness growing brighter with every thump.   
‘I’m sorry, what if the baby is like Eurus?’   
‘If you make me repeat the question one more time John-’  
‘-so what?’ Sherlock stared at him,  
‘So what?’  
‘So what,’ John repeated firmly, reaching for Sherlock’s hand. He let him take it.   
‘Say that the baby is like Eurus, which is unlikely by the way,  
‘Not really,’ Sherlock muttered,  
‘Which is unlikely,’ John pressed, ‘Then we’ll deal with it.’  
‘Deal with it? John, she nearly killed us all.’   
‘Yes, but she didn’t. She’s safe, and so are we, and you go and visit her sometimes. You find a way to adapt Sherlock, we always do.’ Sherlock started at him, uncomprehending,  
‘You are being way too calm about this.’ A smirk bloomed on John’s smug face, and he leaned in teasingly, ‘Well, for once I’m being the rational one, I’m quite enjoying it Sherl,’  
‘Shut up,’ Sherlock said automatically, cringing at the nickname as John cackled.   
‘John you don’t understand, Moriarty was not as clever as Eurus and he still lived a miserable life.’ Sobering, John drew his other hand into his as well,   
‘Moriarty didn’t have anyone that he loved. Part of why he was so exhausted and bored was because he was alone. We won’t let this baby be alone, ever.’  
‘It could still be like Eurus.’ John was quiet for a beat,  
‘Yes. It could. But we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.’  
‘Just deal with it?’  
‘It is what it is.’ John nudged him at the reference, and Sherlock’s face creased in memory, fondness overflowing his features until John almost felt the need to look away, it was too much. Too much love, too much happiness. He didn’t deserve it. But Sherlock did. Sherlock deserved every inch of happiness that he could scrounge for him. And so help him, he would spend the rest of his life scrounging for those inches until they could be fit together to create the happiest life he could ever live.   
Threading a hand through his curly hair, John kissed him. Sherlock’s eyes fell shut as he leaned in closer, pressing their foreheads together. ‘I love you.’ His eyes creased with a smile,   
‘I love you too.’ 

‘How’s Karleen doing?’ John snorted, bumping his shoulder to Sherlock’s,   
‘I’d say about two seconds away from throttling Leroy with her bare hands.’   
‘Understandable.’ John laughed delightedly, threading his hand through Sherlock’s arm, tugging him along as if they were two teens who had just fallen in love, and not two married men with two years of a marriage under their belts. 

Karleen’s veins were prominent. Incredibly, incredibly prominent on her forehead. So prominent that Sherlock had taken the time to ask if this was normal, to which both the doctor and Karleen had responded with a steely glare, and John had hastily stepped in to pull him out of harm’s way.   
‘I’m going to need you to push now Karleen,’ the doctor instructed, looking her in the eyes. With a sharp intake of breath, she nodded and held out her hands. Both Sherlock and John instantly grasped them, and she started to push.   
‘Good girl, getting closer.’ Clenching her jaw, John’s hand starting to turn purple under hers, she pushed again.   
‘Crowning, you’re doing so well.’ Sherlock met John’s eyes, hope and anticipation tied their gazes together, shimmering brightly above them as the promise of new life drew nearer.   
‘Big push for the shoulders hon,’ Karleen’s grip started to slacken. Alarmed, John tightened his but she shook her head, panting.   
‘Leroy, I want...where’s LEROY.’ The boy, previously banished to the corner of the room to   
‘Try and exist as little as possible’, rushed forward, taking both of their places. Stretching out his mangled hand, John couldn’t say that he was particularly sorry for the switch in positions.   
Leroy withstood her iron-grip without flinching, brushed the frizz from her forehead back. Meeting his eyes, she nodded firmly, and Leroy leaned down to whisper something. It was by completely chance that John even heard it at all,   
‘Afterwards, think about all the steak we’re going to eat.’ Her lips formed a weary smile, and sitting up straighter, she braced herself.   
‘Ok. Let’s get this baby out of me.’ The doctor gave a thumbs up from behind her legs,   
‘I totally agree.’ 

The text message lit up his phone, and Mycroft smiled. Rosie, having woken up from the turn of taking an exit, noticed the change in his demeanour and asked,   
‘Baby?’ Turning to her, he nodded and a sleepy smile lit up her face as she sighed deeply, and promptly fell asleep, having reached her goal for the day. Trying not to smile too widely, he had a reputation to uphold after all, Mycroft gently released her drawing from her tiny fist, so that it would be preserved for the baby. Pulling it open, he saw a completely different drawing to what he had expected. There was a person in the middle-presumably him as it was drawn in neon green and she always gave him a top hat, even though she’d never seen him wear one- but in the line that Mycroft supposed to be his hand, there was a tiny skull. The chauffeur turned back to him,   
‘Begging your pardon sir, but we are around five minutes away.’ Mycroft nodded, and folded the drawing with the utmost care. She really was a very talented artist, usually he couldn’t stand the scribbles of children, but hers had a most interesting quality. He supposed she was naturally gifted in that area, as she was in most others in his opinion. He had failed to see how it was possible to gaze upon her work with the lack of enthusiasm his coworkers had shown. I mean really, as if he were Jennifer, who showed them new pictures of her brats every week, and no one had the decency to tell her her children were ugly and that pictures of them should probably not be allowed.  
Shaking his head, he made a mental note to ask Sherlock to display it on the fridge, and when a new one must take its place, to give it to him. It was important, if she wanted the option of being an artist, that he preserve all of her work. Luckily, he’d ordered a filing cabinet for that specific purpose. He supposed he’d better order one for the new child as well, seeing as with his DNA, it would most definitely be as much of a genius as Rosamund. With these important thoughts swirling around in his mind, Mycroft brushed the lint off his trousers, and readied himself to meet the new baby. If it were half as brilliant as Rosamund had turned out to be, he would have himself two very worthy successors. 

‘It’s a boy.’ The doctor moved to hand him to Karleen, but she shook her head avidly, holding Leroy’s arm that was around her shoulders.  
‘He’s their child.’ She pointed to Sherlock and John. John eagerly reached out his arms to receive him, but Sherlock hesitated for a moment. As the bundle was passed to him, John allowed himself a few moments to greet his son, take in the wispy hair, the pinched face and when he opened them: the most luminous, beautiful eyes. He was here. After all of those months of waiting, he was here. Tears blurred his vision unexpectedly, as he struggled against the emotion in his chest. He was here. He couldn’t stop thinking it. He was here. The baby was actually here. Turning to Sherlock in delight, he saw the apprehension, and remembered what he had been about to do, before the baby had overtaken all reason and rationale. Sniffing once, he held the baby close to Sherlock. ‘James.’ Sherlock met his eyes,   
‘So that we always remember our promise. We never let him become as lonely as they were.’ Reaching into his pocket, Sherlock drew out a stuffed, furry red dog. Redbeard.   
‘For new beginnings.’ He drew in a sharp breath as John placed him into his arms, but as soon as James gurgled, and brought his fist to his mouth, he cracked. The tension melted away as he cradled the baby against him, John’s head fell on his shoulder.   
‘For new beginnings.’

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh you made itttt. Hello everyone :) Thank you all so much for reading the fic, I hope you enjoyed. If not, well Moriarty is dead so we're both sad. 
> 
> Have a wonderful day, and feel free to comment, what you liked, what you didn't like, if you'd like to see more pics about their lives, milestones in their children lives, the invention of the toaster etc. ;)
> 
> Byeeeeeeeeee


End file.
